Infinite Day

by Chris Walley

  “That, then, is my first reason why we should not condemn these men to the flames. They are, however separated from us, our relatives. But for grace, and the Lord’s good favor on the Assembly, we would be like them.”

  “Compromiser! Appeaser!” Delastro shouted.

  Merral disregarded him and continued. “Let me give you another reason why we must not destroy these worlds. Before events forced me into soldiering, I was a forester on a Made World. Most of you are from Made Worlds, and it seemed to me then—and it seems to me even more now—that they are at the heart of what we are as Assembly. We are those who have been given a mandate from the Most High to bring life to the worlds. It is our duty and glory to turn the bleakest dust and lava into sea and forest and river. I know one Made World well, and in the course of my journey here, I spent—not out of choice—an interesting fortnight on another. That reinforced in me the belief that the Assembly was brought into being to steward the worlds, to care for them, and not to destroy them. I remind you that to do this thing would to be to destroy not just one planetary system overnight, but to start a process that would, over hundreds of years as the blast wave moved out through space, destroy many worlds. To let this happen would be to reject our calling. We would turn from being creators to being destroyers. I think we would no longer be the Assembly that we have been for so many thousands of years.”

  “Traitor! You are possessed!” Delastro was waving his staff high now.

  “Excuse me, Commander.” It was the chairman, and Merral was struck by the strangely firm and confident tone. “Prebendant, I must ask you to be silent. I would hate to be forced to make you leave the room.”

  Merral began again. “My third reason is this: it betrays a lack of faith. We have claimed in all that we are that we are the Lord’s Assembly. But now we have suddenly left him out of the equation. This weapon is one of almost blasphemous independence. Where is the reliance on the One who sustains the Assembly? It seems to me that here, today, in this chamber, we face a testing of our faith. Do we trust the Most High? Or is his simply a name that we parade when things go well for us?” He looked around the stewards. “For myself, I am now prepared to say that I would far rather trust in the Lord and in such weapons as we have already than unleash this foul thing on the worlds of the enemy.”

  As he paused, he glimpsed Delastro, shaking his head. He turned forward to see Gerry glaring at him with an almost manic hostility. We’re going to have trouble dealing with her.

  Merral went on. “My final point is this: to use this weapon would corrupt us. Corruption is already at work within the Assembly at every level. But if we take up this sword, we will most surely perish by it. This is an action of rage and fear. It is an understandable reaction. But believe me, it is a wrong one. The Dominion approaches us with terror as its weapon; but to strike back with a worse terror is no answer. What benefit will there be if, in defeating the Dominion, we ourselves become a new Dominion?”

  He let the words linger. “Stewards, I pray, destroy this weapon. It must not be used. It would be better that we perished as those faithful to the Lamb than to use such a weapon against our enemies and live.”

  The words were greeted by a low murmur and the clapping of many hands. I have said what I must.

  “I will take questions,” Merral said, aware that the secretary had slipped back into the room.

  “Then what should we do?” someone asked.

  “I have no easy answer. We must fight and pray as best we can. Seek what weapons we have and use them against the military forces. But not to destroy entire worlds. By rejecting this weapon, we will no doubt incur deaths. But we will all die eventually, and personally, I would rather die with a clear conscience than as one who had destroyed worlds.”

  There was another voice. “You spoke of corruption among us. That is a serious charge. Many of us are sworn to the lord-prebendant’s watchword of purity and dedication.”

  I must be careful here. “I do not argue against either of those values. And as for the corruption, I will say more later. But I think it is right that our attention here and now remain focused on the decision about Project Daybreak.”

  No one said anything.

  Merral turned to Delastro. “Prebendant, do you wish to contradict me?”

  “I wish to say . . .” After a long pause, he shook his head. “No. But I do say this.” He raised a bony fist high. “If you trust me, vote for this weapon to be used.”

  Then he sat down.

  Merral waited for the clapping that he expected, but instead there was a strange, awkward silence.

  The chairman rose to his feet. “Thank you, Commander. Please sit by me. The chancellor appears to have vacated his seat. Now, let us vote.”

  Merral sat down. Where are Vero and the others? I need them to deal with Delastro.

  He could see the prebendant speaking to a blank-faced Clemant and the woman next to him. Ahead he noticed Gerry staring at him with a look of pure loathing.

  The delay seemed interminable, but finally, the secretary looked at the screen on his desk and consulted with the chairman, who nodded, stood up, and announced quietly that the motion to deploy Project Daybreak had been rejected.

  A round of hesitant applause echoed through the chamber. Merral heard Gerry say, “No!”

  Merral turned to the chairman and, speaking in a low voice, said, “Dr. Malunal, I’m afraid I have to make another short speech.”

  There was a troubled look. “Commander, this is all very irregular.” The look faded away. “But as you wish.”

  As he had waited for the votes to be counted, Delastro struggled to come to terms with the blow he had been dealt. Victory was certain, and it now seems it could be snatched from me!

  The stupid thing was that it was all his own fault. I spared this man, and I thought it was mercy. It was not mercy but folly. I should have extinguished his life. But I compromised; I let the evil one live. I have learned my lesson. I should have cleansed the worlds of him by fire or vacuum.

  Then it came to him that he had to be disciplined in his anger and regret, or all that he had worked for would certainly be destroyed. Have I indeed lost the vote?

  He gazed up and around, trying to catch the eyes of the men and women whom he had known were his supporters, seeking reassurance that they had voted as they had promised. The way they looked awkwardly away confirmed his worst fears. I will lose this vote. May you be cursed, D’Avanos!

  He tried to push the hate away. I need to think clearly. Now what?

  He turned to Clemant, but as he did he realized the man was useless. He was sitting, staring blankly into infinity, his face bloodless. Contempt surged through Delastro’s mind. Too weak; he always was. Beyond him, K seemed to be preoccupied with her communications; something seemed wrong. He felt more contempt. She is a woman who was inadequate for this crisis.

  The vote was announced, and he heard Gerry’s protesting cry. Delastro hid his emotions, allowing himself only a solemn, rueful shake of the head.

  Now what? So far the forester has spared me. But I doubt he will do so for long. D’Avanos was already talking with Malunal. Well, evil cannot be allowed to triumph. So I must go for the backup plan. I never thought I would need it, but I’m glad I prepared it. The armor of truth and the shield of righteousness together. You can’t be too careful when dealing with evil. It is so subtle.

  Careful to see that he wasn’t noticed, Delastro reached down to his diary and found the buttons on the edge. It is a troubling choice, but there is no option. Indeed, the way the voting has gone today has shown how flawed this system is. What virtue is there in involving fools in decision making?

  He hestitated a second. How long would it take Zak to implement the backup plan? The hundred armed men he had inside the building would seal the doors in two minutes. The reserve guards outside would close off all the streets in ten. It will be unpopular, but I will be forgiven.

  He pressed the transmit button. He hoped there
would be no bloodshed, but he was not going to let mercy stay his hand. Evil must be purged. The existence of D’Avanos shows what the problem with mercy is.

  He waited for the faint buzzing vibration to acknowledge that the message had been sent, but none came.

  He peered past Clemant, frozen into immobility, to K. She evidently caught the meaning in his look because she mouthed back, “No signal.”

  D’Avanos has had transmissions blocked! Such cunning. Diabolical cunning, quite literally. He saw K look away. She will seek to save herself. The weak always do.

  He saw that D’Avanos was about to speak again. Despair flooded his mind. This time he will denounce me.

  Delastro stared across the floor to where Gerry sat, her face a picture of bitterness. She knows it: he has wrecked all our plans; he has served the purposes of the Dominion; he has become our enemy.

  He heard D’Avanos begin addressing the stewards again. How has he done this—escaped, survived, turned up here? How?

  He realized he knew the answer; he had known it ever since the battle of Tezekal Ridge. D’Avanos has authority among the spirits. I have been playing around, trying to manipulate the powers, but he can do it. Despite his protestations and those of his dark henchman, he has been lying. He has cajoled—or ordered—this envoy to help him. I’ve been outmatched by his power.

  Delastro’s hand tightened around his staff. Power: that’s what it’s all about.

  Merral stood in the amplification zone. “I’m afraid I need to take up your time for just a few more minutes. Unfortunately, there is another matter I wish to discuss.” Merral let his eyes sweep around the great chamber till they turned on Delastro. “This other matter is something that I did not mention earlier because I wished to keep it separate from that most important debate.” He paused. “Sadly, I have to say that you have been lied to. I have brought with me incontrovertible evidence of what really happened at Farholme, and if the chairman is willing, you will all shortly have copies. I gather that the prebendant has claimed that he played a major role in the fighting there. He did no such thing.”

  Gasps of astonishment erupted. “He and Advisor Clemant conspired to have me removed as commander in chief, and they effectively imprisoned me after the battle at Ynysmant. Between them, without permission of the lawful authorities, they then took the vessel that the Farholme defense forces had seized.”

  The gasps had somehow been transformed into angry murmurs. But who are they angry with?

  The cleric suddenly rose from his seat, his face livid with rage. Waving his staff, he yelled, “You are deranged, D’Avanos! No, possessed. Your powers come from the pit! You visited it, stood on the edge of hell. You have their power.”

  The chairman coughed. “Prebendant, the charge of . . . demonic possession is unacceptable. You may, if you wish, defend yourself afterward. In the meantime, I must ask you to be silent.”

  Fixing the chairman with a look of contempt, Delastro sat down heavily.

  Merral continued. “Furthermore, he was not content to leave us behind on Farholme. When we did, through the use of another vessel, finally make it into Assembly space, he personally met us at Jigralt and made sure that Sentinel Verofaza Enand and I were marooned on Lathanthor, an uninhabited Made World.”

  Delastro stood up again, his staff clattering against the floor. “I will not stay to be insulted by this demoniac!” He turned toward the door.

  The chairman looked at him. “I’m afraid, Prebendant, the doors have been sealed against your exit.” He paused and then, in a tone of fresh assertiveness, said, “It was my decision.”

  Merral was about to continue speaking when the door to his left opened and Zak, his hands bound behind him and his smart uniform in disarray, was pushed in. He looked distressed, and Merral felt he was barely recognizable as the once-jaunty soldier. Lloyd, Vero—still awkwardly carrying Zak’s gun—and Anya followed him.

  Lloyd led Zak into the amplification zone. Then he looked at Merral with an expression of profound satisfaction. “Excuse me, sir. Zak wants to address the stewards.”

  Vero seemed to notice that he was holding a gun and, with an oddly embarrassed nod to the chairman, put it on the desk with a stuttered apology and stepped back.

  Merral turned to see that Delastro was looking panicky.

  The broken figure began. “My name is Zachary Larraine. I have been working for the prebendant. I wish . . .” He looked at the floor for a moment before looking up. “I wish to make a public confession. I wish to confess to . . .”

  The pause seemed to go on forever.

  “. . . murder.”

  Loud exclamations rang out and then died away.

  “I murdered Captain Huang-Li of the Dove of Dawn. I pushed her over the railing.” He shook his head. “She threatened to reveal everything. I did it on the orders of the prebendant.”

  People were standing up now, and the chairman had to call for order. “This is a serious charge. Prebendant, do you wish to comment here?”

  Delastro stood up slowly. “The man is clearly deranged. Or possessed.”

  “Another demoniac?” the chairman replied, and Merral heard both grief and vindication in the sarcasm.

  “Zak, tell them about Jigralt,” Merral said.

  “Jigralt. Yes, I was there with the prebendant. We arrested . . . D’Avanos and Enand. These two here. And then we dropped them off on a world. There was no intention—at least, not on my part—to hurt them.”

  “Was that also on the prebendant’s orders?” Merral asked.

  Delastro stood up again. “I protest! This is a trial without jury and without precedent.”

  Merral looked at the chairman, who shook his head slowly. “As you yourself said earlier, these strange and urgent days permit irregularities. You will have your chance.”

  Merral turned to Zak, seeing his head sunk on his shoulders. “I repeat the question: was abandoning us to await the Dominion your decision or the prebendant’s?”

  Zak threw a furtive glance at Delastro. “It was his. Entirely his.”

  “Thank you, Zak, for your clarity,” Merral said. “That’s all, Dr. Malunal.”

  “No. It’s not all.” Zak was speaking again, the words tumbling over each other. “Not at all. I was also ordered—by him—to kill Eliza Majweske. She knew too much. She would have stopped everything.”

  A universal and synchronous gasp seemed to convulse the room. Merral glimpsed Vero jolt upright and shake his head.

  Ethan rose from his chair, his face blanched, and walked around the desk. There he stood in front of Zak and, with a single move, lifted the man’s head up so that they were eye to eye.

  “And . . . did you?” he asked in slow, shocked words that rang with emotion. It seemed that no one in the entire room breathed.

  “Yes,” Zak whispered.

  A wave of grunts and gasps swept across the chamber. The chairman snatched his fingers away from Zak’s face as if afraid of contagion.

  “How?”

  “With a poison. The prebendant gave it to me.”

  Ethan shook his head, and then he swung round to the prebendant. “I take it you deny this.”

  The green eyes stared at the chairman, shifted to Merral, and then flickered back. “You don’t understand.” Delastro stood up and turned to the assembled stewards. “None of you understand. At all. And I do!”

  Ethan walked with slow steps back to his chair, sat down, and put his head in his hands.

  There was a dense silence as if everyone had been struck dumb, and then Merral heard a tiny, strange, and puzzling sound—the ping of some tiny metallic object striking the floor. Then another identical sound, and then another, and soon a constant tiny ringing.

  He looked around, saw one of the stewards reach for her lapel, pull out the pin badge, and hurl it to the ground. He understood.

  The chairman looked up with distressed eyes. “What is this evil that here, in this place, we hear of murder? I am horrified.” He sighed. �
�Colonel Larraine, I have one more question of you, and I almost do not dare ask it for fear that I will discover more wickedness. But before God and his people, were Advisor Clemant and K . . . the head of the DAS . . . complicit in these events?”

  Zak licked his lips nervously. “I’m not sure, sir.”

  Ethan stood up and turned to the table. “K—no, enough of this nonsense—Kirana. Before God, the judge of all, I charge you: do you know anything of what this man says? Were you complicit in either the unlawful detention of these two men or the murder of Eliza Majweske?”

  The woman hesitated and then shook her head. “No. But . . .”

  “But what?”

  “I should have stood up to him. Should have suspected him.”

  Ethan turned to Clemant. “Two murders and an abduction, Advisor. Do you solemnly swear that you had no part in any event?”

  For what seemed an unbearable length of time, Clemant stared ahead without answering, and Merral was struck with his smooth round face and his neat dark hair.

  He shook his head. “Sir, I am not guilty of any involvement.” His voice was faint and distant. “But . . . I could have . . . stopped the murders.”

  The chairman seemed to gaze at him for some time, and Merral read dismay in the expression. Then he spoke again to the gathering. “My verdict is this: Colonel Larraine is to be arrested.” He looked severely at those next to him. “The other three we have named, hear this. These charges are so severe that all of you are stripped from office. You will be taken away from here to . . . a place of separate confinement until such time as we can establish the truth through process of trial.” Ethan took an audible breath. “And, as that portion of the penal code has not yet been written, I’m afraid your incarceration could be some considerable time.”

  He gestured to the secretary, and the side doors opened and guards armed with weapons entered. They seized Zak, then surrounded Clemant, the prebendant, and Kirana and began to lead them out.

  As Delastro passed his desk, Ethan, apparently on impulse, asked for his staff. The prebendant refused, but the staff was taken from him by a guard, who brought it to Ethan. He took it, put it over his bent knee, and with an effort, snapped it in two.